


Welcome to Paradise

by LadyIsabella



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arthur in a dress, Arthur is gifted at flirting and getting Dutch all hot and bothered :P, Blowjobs (Mentioned), Bottom Arthur, Cowgirl Position, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Dutch's POV (mainly), Feminization, I am going to hell but who cares I will see you all there!, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Mild breath play, Other, Porn with some plot, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, Topping from the Bottom, top Dutch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 11:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20339620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIsabella/pseuds/LadyIsabella
Summary: Dutch van der Linde is 24, footloose and free in NewYork with money to burn and desires to sate...He heads to a favourite haunt of his, a very special brand of brothel, where those with certain desires can find all they seek!Inspired by the boy-brothels in the hit limited series on Netflix called ‘The Alienist’ and written for a great friend of mine called Caroline! Enjoy 😊





	Welcome to Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> OOC – All ‘girls’ in the brothel are really boys, but will be mainly referred to by their female names, and she/her for pronouns, unless the situation calls for it 😊 Some may be genuine trans and feel like they wish to be girls, others do it because it’s work and the rest of the time go by the male names and personas.
> 
> ‘Alice’ (aka Arthur) is not trans, and dresses as a girl for the job prospects in the brothel.  
I hope this fic doesn’t offend or upset anyone! It is based on the situation in a TV show 😊 
> 
> Comments and kudos are life :D xoxox

** Welcome to Paradise Hall  **

** 1879  **

** New York City **

Dutch had heard about Paradise Hall, of course. Everyone had, though the respectable element of society pretended the place did not exist and would go to great lengths to avoid the very street where t was housed. Even the poorer folk who lived on Cannon Street itself would avoid the topic. They’d hurry down the opposite side of the street and then dart across into their houses, eyes averted.

It was an unprepossessing four-story tenement, with its entrance down a narrow set of stairs below street level. Just like its neighbours. The only thing that distinguished it from said neighbours, and the fact that it was not a house and home but a place of sordid business, was the pair of lady’s boots, hanging by a chain from the railing outside. Well, the boots coupled with the more obvious signs of late-night music, the coming and going of numerous men at all times of the day and night, as well as the presence of a number of strange creatures who worked there.

They had the appearance of girls, complete with corseted dresses, curled and be-ribboned hair, and in some cases, heavy make-up. But if one looked closer there was something about the bone structure, something off about them.

This was why so many of the ‘respectable’ of the city hated the brothel. Not because it was a brothel, of which there were hundreds in New York and many of the respectable gentlemen frequented them, though not publicly. 

No.

The reason Paradise Hall was loathed and judged…was because the ‘girls’ who worked they were boys. This was not only frowned upon by the high standards of the age, but it was illegal too. The police raided Paradise Hall once or twice a year, for show, but they were in the pockets of the owner -one Mr Trelawney- and so never actually closed it; the place brought in too much money for that.

And if it was closed…well, the boys would be plying their trade on the streets! That wasn’t done. Better to keep them away from the eyes of their betters.

Dutch had been a few times to Paradise Hall and thoroughly enjoyed his time. He was twenty-four years old, had some dollars in his pocket -that he had stolen most likely- and had no wife or parents to judge what he did. So why shouldn’t he go and enjoy himself there? He knew what he was…and that he favoured his own sex, rather than women though he admired their appearance. And the brothel gave him the best of both worlds.

He usually visited during the week, when it was a little quieter, and always in the afternoon. During the night you could hardly move for folk and it ruined his enjoyment. He could not sit and watch, pondering which boy to pick. He was very particular and tended to favour those aged fifteen or sixteen and over. He found little to appeal to him in those younger; he wished to talk to the one he chose. The younger boys were silly, rather like little girls in that respect, and the constant giggling soon grew old, very quickly. Besides, he had no interest in bedding children.

-

This particular day he strolled along the street, looking very dapper new clothes, which he had bought earlier that week, with the proceeds of a lucrative stage hold-up out in the sticks with a fellow called Hosea Matthews, with whom he had a close working bond.

Dutch had always had his own unique style, one that always made him stand out. Today he was sporting perfectly shined boots in black leather, tailored black pants that fit his strong form perfectly, a crisp white shirt, with gold cufflinks, finished off with a silken black vest with a red silk back. He carried a gold pocket watch on a chain in his vest pocket and an ebony handled pistol in his gun belt.

His dark hair, elegantly swept back off his face but left to curl at the nape of his neck, was occasionally adorned with a hat, black as well, but sometimes not. Today it was. He also wore no coat, as it was a fine afternoon and coats tended to attract pickpockets in this neighbourhood. Not that he could not deal with such easily, but he would rather not be concerned with trivial matters right now. Today he had plans for a pleasant afternoon in Paradise with some lovely young thing, and then he would meet with Hosea to discuss a bank job they had an idea for.

After that he might have a drink, play some poker -steal some money from whoever won- and head home to his little room above the barber’s on Lent Street to get some sleep. All in all, it would be a good day.

Dutch smiled to himself as he neared the brothel. The weather-worn pair of lady’s boots, hanging by a chain, swung slightly in the light afternoon breeze.

“Alright, Mr D?” A high, cheerful voice called out.

Dutch glanced up and chuckled then doffed his cap to the figure who was leaning out of the first-floor window. “As good as ever, dear Sarah!” he called, with a wink. ‘Sarah’ was an eighteen-year-old prostitute whose real name -not that Dutch ever knew it- was Henry Jameson, and with who he had enjoyed several very pleasant encounters. “Yourself?” he asked, smiling warmly, and even pausing at the side of the steps that lead down to the entrance to the brothel.

“Can’t complain!” The ‘girl’ said, smirking. Sarah, from what he could see of her as she leant out the window, was wearing a white nightgown and had matching ribbons in her curled and primped blonde hair. “You coming to see me?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him flirtatiously.

“I just might, dear girl, I just might,” Dutch replied, with a grin. “We shall see what the day brings!”

Sarah blew him a kiss then ducked back inside, pushing the sash window down behind her as she did.

Dutch smiled and headed down the steps, ducking under the low doorway when he reached the bottom. A burly, mute man stood just inside an alcove to his left, arms crossed and glaring at everyone. Dutch merely nodded at him and carried on down the corridor; he was well known here now and did not need to bribe ‘Little John’ as he was known, to get in.

The corridor had, at some point many years ago, been papered in bright yellow wallpaper, with little flowers dotted about, now, after neglect and decay, not to mention smoke from numerous cigars and so on, it was stained a dull orangey-brown. The floorboards had been worn shiny and black from so many feet, and only the very edges of them showed what colour they had once been. A few doorways led off this main corridor, though none had actual doors, just badly sewn curtains that acted as partitions.

He wasn’t interested in any of these, however. He was heading for the door at the end -an actual door, painted red though it was peeling- that led to the main room of the brothel. It had likely once been the large kitchen of a grander house, God knows how many years ago, plus perhaps the servant’s rooms. Now it had been knocked into one large, stoned floored room, papered with red wallpaper -heavily stained from age like the corridor- and brightened up with second-hand carpets and furniture to create a place to relax in. It was lit with gas lamps around the walls and a few smaller laps on tables, some of which had red scarfs thrown over them, giving a muted light to the place.

At the far end of this room was a small stage, on which currently a scantily clad whore was singing in a high pitched, faux girlish voice about her father and his ‘ways’. It had the six or so customers in paroxysms of laughter, and they were toasting her and each other with shots of cheap whisky.

Along one wall was the well-stocked bar, with a few stools, and a beautiful -genuine woman- stood serving drinks. She was dressed in a tight red gown, with a large bustle and numerous ribbons.

Dotted about the room were smaller tables with mismatched chairs, as well as a few Queen Anne chairs and overstuffed chaises. Given this room was below street level and at the back of the house, there were no windows and aside from the lamps and gaslights, lit wicks set in saucers of water were placed on the tables. Dutch suspected these were present more to allow clients to light their cigars and cigarettes than to provide adequate light.

Dutch walked up to the bar and removed his hat, hanging it on the hooks beside said bar, then smiled to the barmaid. “Alright, Katherine? I must say red becomes you…”

Katherine rolled her eyes but smile and poured him a large whisky. “You charmer,” she said, laughing softly.

“Of course,” he replied, smirking. He sat down on a stool and rested his arms on the bar as she passed him the drink. He sipped it and watched the mirror behind her that gave him a view of the room behind him. “Anyone new?” Dutch asked, taking another sip.

“Umm,” Katherine frowned as she thought then she smiled, “Oh, yes. New to here, but she’s known to Mr Trelawny. Apparently, she’s worked alone for a time, and contacted him when that became impossible…”

“Intriguing,” Dutch answered, smiling. “Her name?”

Katherine smirked, “Alice.” She scanned the room beyond then nodded, “That’s her, the girl with the hair like honey and in a blue dress, by the fireplace.”

Dutch looked in the mirror, but as it was grimy, he turned instead to get a better look. The place was quieter, it being the afternoon, with less than ten customers in, so he had a clear view across the room to the fireplace. “Pretty,” he said, taking her in.

“Yes …she has been very popular these last few nights, hence why she is working this afternoon instead. MMrTrelawny didn’t want her to get worn out.”

“How generous of him,” Dutch replied, not taking his eyes off the fair-haired creature, who stood by the fireplace, leaning one arm on it, the other fanning herself lazily with an oriental paper fan. He downed his whisky and slapped the dollar on the bar, tossed her a lazy smile, then turned back to watching the figure across the room.

Alice, as she called herself, was tall for a girl, but not so tall as to look silly dressed as one; Dutch reckoned she was about 5’10 or so, but given he assumed, from the distance he was, that she was about sixteen or so, he imagined the lad would likely be about his height when fully grown. He -she- he corrected himself, was slender still, though with a hint of stockiness, just a hint, but it was there. When he outgrew the brothel and its clientele there would always be work for this one, Dutch reasoned, not on his back or knees but with a gun in his hand! He had the look.

The dress, light blue in colour and tight at the waist with the help of -Dutch assumed- a corset suited her and set off the honey tones of her hair. This Alice was certainly enchanting. Dutch pushed off the stool and strolled over, his steps confident and suave as he meandered through the tables and clientele of the brothel.

He came up beside this alluring vision and rested an arm on the fireplace as well, to lean in and whisper, “What’s a pretty thing like you doing standing alone?”

Alice turned to him and fixed him with a pair of green-blue eyes that were filled with mirth, “Oh, sir,” she replied, in a drawl that was as honeyed as her hair, “Is that really your best attempt? It’s a little obvious…”

Dutch chuckled. She had spirit. He was used to brainless whores who just giggled and stoked his ego. This was different. And rather thrilling. “Oh, certainly not,” he retorted, with a wink. “My best would have you screaming in pleasure, Miss.”

“They all say that…very few have,” Alice allowed, fanning herself as she looked Dutch up and down. “Still, I _have_ heard good things about you, Mr. van der Linde.”

“Really? Such as?”

Alice laughed. Not a silly whore’s giggle but a genuine laugh of amusement. It pleased him though he could not put his finger on why. “Ah, ah, ah,” she chided him, “A lady shouldn’t kiss and tell…however, from what I have heard your attributes are…sizeable.” She winked coyly and fanned herself once more.

Dutch chuckled. “Now who is being obvious, Miss. Alice?” He reached out and gently tucked a lock of her silky hair behind her ear. “Though I will admit that is correct.”

The girl smiled shyly, and Dutch was sure she leant into his touch slightly. “What is...Oh,” she laughed, realising what he meant. “Well ain’t it my lucky day,” Alice added.

“I haven’t decided yet if I want to take you upstairs, Miss,” Dutch reminded her, with a smirk. That was a lie, and she likely knew it. He’d decided the second he looked at her.

“Ain’t you?” Alice replied, with a knowing air that belied her youthful appearance. “I think we both know I’ll be on my knees soon enough for you, Mr. van der Linde…” she pursed her lips briefly, giving him a jolt of pleasure. “I’ve my own attributes, you know.” A pink and perfect tongue traced her full lips on purpose.

Dutch tried to hide the fact she was having an effect on him. He was used to being in control…in all aspects of his life, he was in control. Even as a child he had known what he wanted and how to get it. Which of course led to clashes with his temperamental mother. He knew now the problem was that they had been too similar. He could admit that now. Then he would have sooner died than agree with such a statement.

And here he was being unmanned nearly by a slip of a whore. He had to admit; however, it was rather exciting and appealing. It was new…different…He was a man with appetites, and it was rare to find something new!

“Really?” he asked, shifting a little. “Do tell, miss. I am all ears.”

Alice smiled coyly. “This is hardly a private place for discussing it…” she held out a laced gloved hand, which Dutch took automatically, and lead him to an alcove in the corner with a single well-appointed Queen Anne chair, upholstered in red. A shaded lamp threw a soft, gentle light over the space.

Dutch sat down and reflected, as his gaze took in the vision before him, that this scene might have been from a Renaissance painting…the angelic maiden, with her lord, or something. He smirked at the thought then his grin spread wider as Alice sat herself down on his lap, slung an arm around his neck and leant against him, ensuring he could feel the stiff boning of her corset, coupled with the soft skin of her arm and shoulders.

Bloody tease.

“So…” Dutch said softly, a hand settling on Alice’s slim -by the help of the corset, he assumed- waist, “tell me then, what you think your attributes are…aside from the obvious ones of figure, beauty and wit.”

Alice laughed. It was delightful, Dutch decided. Sweet and musical, but with an undertone of strength. “Well, you’ve ruined my surprise now…by listing them!”

“You have no others? How disappointing…” Dutch acted as if he was put off. Though nothing could, he reckoned, at this point. He found her too fascinating. She acted, despite needing the money and being a whore, as if he was just a man she had met, that she felt no desire to impress!

As a regular patron of brothels, this was something entirely new for him! He’d never had a whore be so flippant about it. Most were downright obvious! Hell, he knew some who simply lifted their skirts and gave the potential client a look that said, _“Come on then.”_

The whore chuckled. “I have a couple, though those are beneath my skirts, of course…And I am told my hands are _‘divine’_. As for cards, no man can beat me at poker…I’ve emptied many a pocket in that game.”

“And in other matters too, I imagine,” Dutch quipped, with a wink. His fingers idly stroked over Alice’s neck, enjoying the soft feel of her skin. “I take it from this little talk that you are expensive in all manners.”

Alice glanced at him and winked, “Well, perhaps not as expensive as those _courtesans _you might find in the wealthy parts of town, who can happily stroll with any matron or socialite without causing a scandal, because they are _French_ and above such pettiness…”

Dutch laughed, “I should damn well hope not! If you charged such prices, my dear, you would bankrupt this house I imagine!”

“Quite…” Alice smirked then leant in and whispered her price in Dutch’s ear.

He blinked. Then snorted with good humour. “I hope that means you are worth it! That’s a large sum for a whore in this street!”

“I assure you I am…Would Mr. Trelawny let me continue to work if I wasn’t pulling in the clients, Sir?” she responded with a smirk. “It is, after all, a business.”

“True,” Dutch replied, with a smile. “How many have you had; may I ask?”

Alice laughed. “That’s not want you want to know, Mr Dutch…”

It wasn’t. Dutch smirked. The girl was smart. He shifted a little, feeling his cock twitch in his tailored pants. He wondered if Alice felt it too, through the layers of taffeta and ribbons she wore. Even if she hadn’t, she would have known what his shift meant.

“You want to know…” Alice whispered, leaning in close, “How tight I am…”

Dutch felt his blood heat at her words and his lips parted in a soft gasp. He was being undone! Again! This was…thrilling and strange and…addictive. He had not even taken the girl yet and damn if he wasn’t planning a return trip already.

“How good it will feel…” Alice continued, evidently enjoying the reactions she was getting from the man below her, “…when you spread me open and push inside…how warm I’ll be inside…or…maybe how wet and hot my mouth will be…when I take your cock and pleasure you…”

“Shit…” Dutch groaned softly and closed his eyes, images of such flashing before him. He gripped her waist tighter and said, “Take me to your room, Alice…Now…”

Alice gently licked a strip up his throat then grinned and slipped off his lap. She held out her lace-gloved hand to him.

It took Dutch a few seconds to compose himself enough to actually trust his legs to support him. He stood and took her hand, fingers closing about her own and wishing her hand was bare so he could feel her skin. All in good time.

The girl smiled as if she knew what he was thinking then lead him from the room. No one, aside from Katherine at the bar, even noticed. All eyes were on the singer on the stage who was now nearly naked.

She took him back out into the corridor, and through one of the curtained-off doors. In front of them were two staircases, both steep and narrow; one leading downwards to the basement, Dutch assumed, as he had never been there, and one leading upwards to the rooms above, which he had been in.

“We’ll go to the Mirror Room,” Alice said, smiling as she set off up the stairs, lifting her skirts a little to avoid tripping.

Dutch admired her white leather boots, with a small heel. She must have a dainty ankle to wear such…he licked his lips and swallowed. Damn. Everything about her…it was as if someone had designed a creature just for his pleasure!

They proceeded upwards to the next landing, where several doors lead off it. The sounds of pleasures…grunts, groans, the creaking of bedframes, could be heard as they passed doors. “I hope you are not afraid of heights, Mr Dutch,” Alice said, taking no notice of the noises. Her heels clicked on the wood floor and her dress made a soft swishing sound.

“No, indeed not,” Dutch replied, chuckled. “May I ask why?”

Alice smiled and glanced back at him as they reached another narrow, steep staircase, “The Mirror Room is our best and highest room.”

“I see…” Dutch laughed. He watched her silhouette moving up the stairs and had to admire the cut of her dress, and how it hugged her figure. Damn, she was fine. He could not wait to get her out of said dress. “You intrigue me, Miss. Everything about you appeals…”

“I hear that a lot…usually from men about to come,” she replied, walking past a stunning stained-glass window that looked rather out of place in this slum-level building.

Dutch paused, unable to stop himself, and admired the vivid colours, reflected in the weak afternoon sunlight that shone through it.

Alice, who had seen it before, didn’t even glance at it until Dutch stopped. She turned and looked at it, the colours in little patches, coloured her skin and dress. “Ah…Mr. Trelawney found that when he first bought the building. He reckoned it was a folly by whoever owned it years ago.”

“These houses were once grand, owned by wealthy families before they were left to rot,” Dutch replied, his fingers tracing the coloured panes of glass. “I guess this was once just another beautiful decoration in a stunning house. There were likely more before they were replaced…”

“Beauty becomes plain and dull…A metaphor for life?” Alice replied, coming closer to Dutch and gazing at the beautiful glass. “When I first came here, I would sit here and imagine the beautiful world it represented.”

Dutch looked away from the glass and instead to Alice. She looked lost and wistful. He reached out and touched her cheek softly, brushing a lock of her honey-coloured hair back as he did, “You dream of another life?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Alice replied, smiling gently.

“Sometimes…” Dutch sighed softly.

Alice smiled again then took his hand once more, “Come on…you did not come here to hear about my silly hopes and dreams…You came for pleasure.” She turned away and carried on leading him along the corridor. They went up a shorter set of stairs and Alice pushed a hatch up as they ascended. She climbed up and turned to offer him a hand.

Dutch smiled and accepted, just to be polite. He closed the hatch behind him and looked about. He found himself in a stunning room, one that far far exceeded the others he had seen here. It was an attic room, with two bay windows that overlooked the city rooftops. The floorboards were scrubbed and bare, though a few rag-rugs were dotted about. A black-iron bedstead sat in the centre of the room, as the frame was too high to be at the edge of the eaves. The bed was covered with a white flocked bedspread and rather plush looking pillows.

Evidently, Trelawney didn’t spare anything for his best room!

He could see why it was called the mirror room; hanging from the ceiling were shards of mirrors, that spun gently in whatever breeze came through the open windows.

“It’s beautiful here when the sun sets and comes through the window,” Alice said, smiling. “The shards come alive and spin like little flames. I always try to come and see it.”

Dutch smiled too, “It’s beautiful…but not as lovely as you, miss.”

Alice laughed softly, “Oh sir…do not be foolish. I am nothing special.”

“I mean it,” Dutch asserted, his voice soft. He walked closer and cupped her cheek, “You are something special, Alice.”

She leant into his touch, a light blush on her cheeks. “If you say so, Mr Dutch.”

Dutch smiled then reached into his waistcoat pocket and took out some bills. He counted out the amount she wished for, then added another five just for her sake. He held them a moment, then smiled and set them on the dresser with a pat of his hand.

Alice glanced at them then turned and started to unlace her gown. She was, of course, adept at unlacing the complicated ribbons of her dress. She glanced back over at Dutch and tossed him a coy smirk.

He watched as she peeled off her gown, letting it fall to the floor. Dutch smiled. Alice was wearing an expensive white chemise under her dress with a tightly laced corset in cream tones. She turned to face him, a hand on her corset clad hip.

Dutch bit his lip and grinned, “Well, my dear, you look rather wonderful…though I would appreciate it if you removed the boots…”

“To be honest so would I,” Alice said, laughing. She sat down on the bed and brought a leg up to unlace them, but Dutch moved forward quickly and caught her hands.

“Let me,” he said softly, stroking her fingers through the lace gloves.

Alice smiled shyly, “Well the girls were right…a gentleman through and through.”

“Oh really? What else did they say?” Dutch started to unlace her boots, taking his time as he did it. He was in no rush. He had paid for the night, after all. He wanted to enjoy this.

“Well…” Alice pursed her lips and giggled, “Aside from the sizeable attributes and so on…they said you are kind, charming, intelligent…You like to talk sometimes, rather than fuck,” at this, she looked at him and winked, “Though when you chose to fuck you do it very, very well…excellently I am told!”

Dutch grinned and slipped off her left boot, his fingers stroked over her stocking-clad ankle. It was beautiful. Strong yet dainty. “I do,” he agreed. “They didn’t exaggerate! I’m not sure about the kind bit though…”

“No, no, the girls were most insistent. They all said the same…you were the kindest client they ever had. You cared about them…you made sure they enjoyed it, you didn’t hurt them,” Alice replied, looking down at him.

“Of course?” He frowned. “That’s not kindness…it’s…I don’t know what it is but it doesn’t mean I am kind…I…”

She toyed with a lock of her hair and smiled. “It’s why I made sure you saw me today.”

“Because I’m…what?” Dutch asked softly, pausing at the lacing of her right boot.

“Because you are Dutch van der Linde,” Alice said, smiling. “And I wanted to know if the rumours were true.”

Dutch chuckled and started to unlace the other boot. “Well, I hope I live up to your hopes.” He pulled off her right boot then slowly slid his hands up her legs, enjoying the feel of soft silk stockings -another expense a common whore should not have had- and the legs beneath them. He ventured up slowly, over her knees until he reached the ribbons about her thighs that served as her garters. “Mm, your skin is quite, quite wonderful, my dear.”

Alice bit her lip and blushed. “Your hands feel wonderful,” she replied, with a giggle. “Strong and rough…I imagine they could do many things to me.”

“Oh, indeed…Just you wait, Miss. Alice,” Dutch crooned softly. His fingers stroked over the strip of naked thigh above the ribbon-garters while he pondered where to take this. He knew where it would end…but what to do first…so many things to try, so little time!

Part of him wanted to unbutton, get his cock out, throw the girl over the bed and fuck her into oblivion…he could feel those dark, hidden desires pulling at the corners of his mind. He knew there was a darkness inside him. Something just under the surface, was it madness? Or just cruelty? He wasn’t sure, but he was damn well positive it would never be directed at this delight that, even now, was looking at him with soft, green-blue eyes that held unspeakable trust.

That surprised him. He had never seen her before, never mind taken her upstairs. Why on earth would she trust him? He, like most folk, had heard the horror stories of what some clients had done to some whores, and the risks involved with the line of work…Was it the fact the other girls had said he was kind? Did she hold so much store by that? He blushed a little at the thought. It was rather something to be thought of as kind. Few ‘respectable’ folks would say that.

He was a thief. A murderer. A conman and trickster. He was an outlaw.

Not kind.

Still…if this divine creature before him thought him so…He wanted to be, for no other reason than to please her.

Alice leant forward and cupped his cheek, the lace rough on his skin. “What is it, Mr. van der Linde?”

“Dutch…” he answered, smiling, “Call me Dutch…And…it’s nothing. Now, where we were?”

The girl did not look as if she believed him, but rather than press him, she smiled and ran a finger over his lips. “You appeared to be in the process of undressing me, I assume,” she smirked. “I very much doubt you are on your knees for another reason.”

“Oh?” For some reason that rather appealed. The last time he had sucked cock was when he was about Alice’s age, and it had been to get out of trouble, a few days before he left home once and for all. He had not wanted the lawman telling his mother what he had gotten up to. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. The lawman had told her anyway, and what he had done to him too. He had never seen her again. He had seen the lawman though.

And made him pay.

“Well,” Alice said, shrugging, “Only clients who want to be taken in hand by a girl want to do that. Others want their cocks sucked, not the other way around.”

“Has anyone ever sucked yours?” Dutch asked, slowly pushing his fingers into the soft skin of her thighs to spread them open a little. Her chemise hiding the view still.

Alice shook her head, “Course not,” she laughed. “I’ve not been here all that long, but I learned very quickly why men come here and not to any number of the other brothels.”

Dutch racked his brains. He assumed it was because the men had a desire for their own sex, and this gave them that, while still being able to lie to themselves that it was a woman. He said as much to Alice.

She laughed again, “I suppose. It’s simpler though, really.” Alice shifted forward a little on the bed and leant in to whisper against his cheek in a way that made Dutch’s cock twitch, “We do things real girls don’t…”

That was true enough. Only the lowest whores, it was said, would debase themselves by sucking cock or allowing a man to have their ass. Dutch found that ridiculous. Pleasure was pleasure.

He smiled though and his hands left her thighs to card through her silky hair. “I do things others do not as well…It seems we’re are a good match in this regard…” he leant forward and kissed her, his lips soft and gentle on hers.

Alice gasped softly and pulled back; her eyes wide. “You…you kissed me…”

“Yes?” Dutch said, laughing. “And?” He stopped, seeing her face, “Have…have you never been kissed before?”

She shook her head, “No... Dutch. I ain’t.”

“Well, your previous clients have been very lacking!” He curled his hand around the back of her neck and drew her in once more. This time she did not gasp. She sighed in pleasure and parted her lips to allow his tongue to slip inside her mouth, to meet hers in a passionate fight.

He won, of course, and found himself rising up, pushing Alice back onto the bed as he moved over her. His thighs settled between her spread ones, one hand by her head, the other stroking her cheek as they kissed.

Finally, he came up for air and gave a husky laugh. “Miss. Alice…for a novice kisser you do make a man feel all at sea! I do believe my lips will be bruised tomorrow!”

“Something to remember me by,” she retorted, looking up at him with a smirk.

Dutch shifted a little, aware his cock was pressing, rather insistently against her lower stomach as he hovered over her. “As if I could forget you, Miss. Alice. I’ve not even fucked you yet and I doubt I will ever forget this night.”

Alice raised an eyebrow, “Then you should do something about that, Mr. van der Linde.”

“I should…I should,” he agreed, looking down at her, with hungry, predatory eyes. “I am just wondering what part of you to ravish first…I seem to recall you mentioning your ass and it’s tightness…”

“Mmm…yes…” Alice giggled, her gaze hot and searing on his face. “I did. And it is.”

“I think I should check,” Dutch replied, with a wink. He leant down, mouthing at her throat and whispered, “Open your legs…bring your knees up. I want you open for me.” He felt his cock give an interested twitch in his tailored pants as the girl below him did as he asked.

As he was above Alice, he felt rather than saw her bring her knees up and spread them about his thighs. He smirked and pushed off to stand by the bed, staring down at the sight before him. The pretty girl, in her chemise and corset, legs spread and open. Damn. It was rather like being let loose in a cake shop!

Dutch slipped his hand around her ankle and stroked her through her stocking before slowly sliding his hand up her leg, over the ribbon-garter until he reached the soft, perfect skin of her thigh. As his hand rose higher, he chuckled. “Oh, you naughty girl! You wear no undergarments!”

Alice giggled and leant up, resting her weight on her elbows, “I’m a whore, Mr. van der Linde…It would rather be a waste of time.”

“I suppose,” Dutch allowed. His fingers slowly explored what lay between her thighs. “Oh…but I see you wear a ribbon upon your- “

“We don’t speak of that,” Alice interrupted with a smirk. “It’s…” she searched for a word and failed.

“It’s your cock, Alice, dear,” Dutch replied, smirking. “But I shall not mention it again if you wish me to say nothing…besides…there are other things I am interested in.” His hand weighed the be-ribboned cock briefly, and he found it to be of a good size. The lad would have no trouble in pleasing man or woman!

After a moment he let his fingers stray downwards to his ultimate goal. He laughed at what he found. “Alice…Alice…Alice…” he scolded, with a twinkle in his eye, “I do believe you have oiled yourself!”

“Of course!” she laughed and let herself drop back onto the bed, to gaze, with a smirk, at the ceiling. “Most clients cannot be bothered. It’s best to be prepared…I don’t want to get injured for want of a hasty client.”

Dutch, his fingers gently tracing her well-oiled hole, considered this and inwardly cringed. He was no fool. He knew what his gender could be like. The thought though, of someone hurting this wonderous creature made his blood boil, and not in a good way!

He used his free hand and caught her chin in his hand, “I won’t hurt you, Alice. I promise.”

Alice looked at him, her green-blue eyes, framed by honey-coloured curls appeared to be looking into his very soul for a moment. She nodded, “You know something…I actually believe you. I’ve no idea why. I’ve no reason to trust a client but…Something tells me that you mean what you say, whenever you speak.”

“I try to,” he agreed, nodding. “I mean it though, Alice. If at any time you don’t like something, tell me. Tell me to stop, and I will, I swear it. Money be damned.”

“Mr van der Linde…Dutch, I…I’m a whore. This isn’t about my pleasure- “

Dutch gripped her chin harder and said, with meaning, “Alice, I mean it. If you aren’t enjoying it…neither will I.”

Alice blushed and nodded, “Alright, Dutch…I promise.”

“Actually…” Dutch moved and lay down beside her then pulled the girl over him, so she was straddling him instead. “You are in control.”

“Dutch-“ Alice settled onto his body, her hands bunching into his shirt. “Are you sure?” she was baffled by this. She had never, not in her entire -albeit short- career had a client treat her like…a person. It was astounding. “You’ll…spoil me. I’ll start to get used to being treated nicely.”

The man below looked up at her and smiled sadly. He reached up and stroked her cheek then carded through her hair, “You deserve to be treated like a Queen.”

“Don’t sweet talk me,” Alice replied, shaking her head. “It’s cruel. You don’t mean it.”

Dutch swallowed but held back a retort. The poor lad had never been treated like he should. It could take months of gentle treatment to get the lad confident. He ran his hands down to her shoulders and stroked her skin. “Alright, sweetheart…”

Alice shifted back a little and started to unbutton Dutch’s pants. She stopped halfway then tugged off her flimsy lace gloves before undoing the last button. Dutch groaned aloud when her fingers, strong yet gentle invaded his pants and stroked his already straining cock. “Why, Mr Dutch…they weren’t lying!” She crooned, with a small smirk.

“Mmm…oh, shit, Alice…” he groaned.

Her fingers were skilled, and hell, even an inexperienced touch would have made him come undone. It was that close. Being near her…it did something to him.

“Don’t you come yet, Mr Dutch…Not until you are inside me,” the girl whispered, with deliberate coyness.

“Oh…God…” Dutch managed, closing his eyes as images of just that event flashed in his mind. He reached for her and pulled her closer, so his cock was delightfully pressed up against Alice’s, the view hidden under her chemise, but erotic, nonetheless. “I want you, so much,” he whispered, his hands settling on her back. He dug his fingers in, feeling the move and flex of her muscles under the silky fabric of her chemise.

“Take me then, Mr. van der Linde,” Alice whispered, “Please…”

Dutch nodded, trying to ease the fog in his mind enough to actually be able to function. He shifted them a little, giving him enough room to reach down, under the girl’s clothing to grasp his straining cock. He groaned softly at the feeling. His cock head brushed Alice’s tight, well-oiled hole. “Relax for me, sweetheart…”

Alice laughed then gasped softly as Dutch started to push his hips upwards. She dragged in a breath, breathing through the tight stretch as he eased the head of his cock inside her. “Shit…” she grunted, closing her eyes as his hands roamed upwards to bury in her hair. “Mm…D-Dutch…Oh…”

“You…You are so tight, Alice,” he moaned, fingers tightening briefly in her honey-coloured locks before he released them and stroked down over her shoulders. Dutch pulled her forward a little and leant up to meet her, their lips locking together in a passionate kiss, all the while she slipped lower, his cock slid deeper inside her.

They moaned into the kiss in unison, followed by a deep, guttural groan from Alice, that belied her feminine appearance, as Dutch was fully seated into her.

She gripped his shirt, gasping and panting as she tried to adjust. “Shit…shit…fuck…” was all Alice managed. She shifted a little, trying to get comfy in her position atop the larger man. Her thighs were stretched open, his between hers, her back arched, her body filled, it seemed, to its limit with a large, solid and long cock.

But damn if she had never felt so wonderful! 

“Move…” Dutch whispered softly. “You are in control…” His hands moved down to her hips, settling warm, heavy and comforting

“Ain’t I…l-lucky,” she stammered, smirking. She dug her nails into his chest, for leverage, then started to roll her hips against his. “Mm…”

Dutch tossed his head back and thrust upwards, without meaning to, earning a choked-out gasp from Alice. He went to apologise but was stopped when she deliberately lifted up a little, then thrust downwards, knocking the wind from him too as pleasure burnt through him. “Shit,” he cursed softly.

The girl had skill! That was for damn sure. Every movement, every little shift, the clench of her hole…the soft gasps…it was all designed to make a man lose control of himself!

She carried on, ignoring his groans, rolling her hips down, thrusting against him, with obvious knowledge. “Mmm…” she let out a soft moan as his cock brushed that spot inside her that made her see stars. Alice looked down at him and smirked then let one hand slid upwards from his chest to close briefly about his throat. She held him tightly, at her mercy, as she rocked up and down on his cock.

“Mmm…Mr. van der Linde, at a whore’s mercy,” she teased, with a soft giggle.

Dutch growled softly with a smirk and his hand shot out, closing about Alice’s own throat, “Now what?” he croaked, winking.

Alice gasped and laughed. “Well, damn…I guess we are at an impasse…”

“Looks like…how shall we solve it?”

“I was thinking I might let you go and ride your cock until you come and fill me with hot, searing seed,” Alice replied, stroking her fingers around his throat.

Dutch laughed and gently slid his hand from her throat, to cup her cheek instead, “That seems a fair trade!”

“I thought so,” she added, then said, “Now be quiet and let me concentrate.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dutch said, laughing softly as he did.

Alice rode him as hard as he had ridden his horse that time the law chased him from a stage robbery. There was a rhythm then she would change, never allowing him to relax into it. It might have annoyed him…if it had not been so monumentally pleasurable.

Dutch could feel his climax building, but he was determined to last. He wanted to see her come apart before he did. Call it ego. Call it manners. It didn’t matter. He reached under her chemise and took hold of the cock he found there; he started, gently, but firmly, to pump his hand up and down.

“Ah!” Alice was taken by surprise when she felt the rough, calloused fingers close about her. “Oh…that…that was a dirty trick!”

“I never agreed to play fair…I don’t think,” Dutch replied, moaning as he did.

“Fair enough,” Alice quickened her pace, her thighs straining with each rise and fall. Her hand planted over his heart, felt the hum of his body as they chased their pleasure together.

Dutch, much to his chagrin, came first with a loud groan of pleasure, tinged with frustration. He really had been undone by this slip of a creature! He gasped, dragging in deep, desperate breaths as Alice continued to move on his spurting cock. He closed his eyes, his hand falling slack on her cock. He was unable to carry on. His blood was on fire.

Then the most unexpected thing happened…

Dutch van der Linde, who had fucked many a man in his time passed out briefly from pleasure.

When he came too, a few moments later, he found that he was perfectly comfortable and at ease with the world. He blinked his eyes open and found Alice, lying on his chest, head on her arms, a smirk on her lips.

“I reckon that’d be a win for me, then, Mr. van der Linde?” She quipped, with a wink.

It took him a couple of seconds to reply, “I…I’d say so…fuck…That…that was a new experience, I can tell you…” he shifted a little and smirked, realising that she, too, had come undone. He stroked back a lock of her hair and smiled at her. “Alice…What…what is your name?”

Alice blinked and looked at him, a little wary suddenly. “Why?” She asked, sitting up a little but still leaning nearly entirely on him.

“I…I just want to know the real name of the person who has destroyed me,” Dutch replied, honestly.

After a long pause, the boy sitting astride him looked him dead in the eye and said softly, “Arthur…Arthur Morgan.”

Dutch smiled warmly. “Nice to meet you, Arthur. Now…I’ve another question…”

“Oh yes?” Alice, or Arthur, asked, still looking a little wary.

The hand settled over his cheek and the warm, gentle voice of Dutch van der Linde asked him the most important question he would ever be asked in his life…

“Come away with me…”

After a pause, he answered;

“Yes.”

_The End. _


End file.
